I am a hard core New Years resolutioner. Fuck all the haters. I stick with them (when they're reasonable... sometimes mine are not) and despite the fact that life does not actually roll over and become new on January 1st, I see no harm in declaring a fresh start along with everyone else.
So since January 1st I've changed my eating habits a bit (no more two-plates-beyond-full gorging, no more 2 am fried-food "dinners"), I've started reading the books I've always wanted to read (so far in 2011 I've read Phillip K Dick's "Lies, Inc" and I just started Frank Herbert's "Dune" today), and I've given myself permission to write ALL THE TIME. Whenever I want. About anything.
I've been writing for hours a day, and when I'm not writing seeing the world in the way that I would write it. It may sound like a disconnect from reality, but actually I feel like I'm seeing everything with heightened senses. I'm constantly interrupting my inner monologue with notes, notes for what, I don't know.
Young groomed professional... I get close and his see his nails clipped at harsh angles...bus smells like... warm, wet peanut shells, afro american hair care product, and an old hot dog... toothless white man screaming... his gums are slimy and make him sad as he shouts about how much money he makes... she and I traverse the potholes and tide pools of Passyunk Ave, I grab the front of her baby carriage and help her down the sidewalk onto the uneven street... she wears a paper New Years hat and tells me how lonely she is, but how nice people in Philadelphia are... smoking middle aged white Mom at bus stop, "My kids won't even let me smoke in their HOUSE, canyabelieveit?"... her pants are high, her jacket reminds me New Mexico... the two young black women nod, hoop earrings banging into their necks...
Kingdom's going on a 10 day tour at the end of Jan and I'm hoping to print some of the stuff I've written in a little zine for it, then write something more substantial for our spring tour. Yay. The End.